The Titans (26 page)

The Titans357 chair, looking annoyed Piles of documents surrounded the chair. On the mantel rested a forage cap with the 69th's distinctive metal insignia-a small Irish harp. A stack of circulars lay on a table. Michael had seen them before: YOUNG IRISHMEN TO ARMS! TO ARMS YOUNG IRISHMEN! Iand1SH ZOUAVES One hundred young Irishmen-healthy, intelligent and active-wanted at once to form a Company under the command of THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER. To be attached to the 69th Regiment, N.y.S.m. No applicant under eighteen-was "I don't believe we're acquainted," Meagher barked. "My name's Michael Boyle, sir. I'm a friend of Colonel Corcoran's. We were introduced once at Hibernian Hall." Meagher's stern expression moderated. "Oh, yes. I do recall the meeting. What can I do for you?" "I wanted to ask whether your company roster's filled. I went to the recruiting office on Beekman-the one mentioned in mat circular-but it was closed. I thought perhaps you'd gotten your hundred men-was "The recruiting hall is never open on Saturday afternoons. I use that time for personal business." Meagher nodded toward the piles of documents, growing more cordial: "Won't you be seated, Mr.-Boyle, is it? To answer your question-no, the roster is not filled We still need seven men," The faint, taunting music of the Zouave band faded down Fifth Avenue. "If you'll have me," Michael said, "now it's only six." ?" I I'l .! Book Two Red My CHAPTERI City at the Edge of War THREE O'CLOCK, the normal hour for closing, came and went At four, the shop still had customers. Margaret began to fret Would she be free soon enough to meet Gideon? He'd promised to be at their rendezvous by five- thirty at the latest. If he were on time, they'd have an hour together before he had to rush back to the Fair Grounds. She kept thinking of it as the Fair Grounds even though it had been renamed Camp Lee in honor of the famous colonel who'd come to Richmond as major- general in charge of the state military forces. Four fifteen. La Mode Shoppe remained busy. The shop occupied a narrow frontage on Main Street near Tenth, a block and a half from the teeming Spots- wood Hotel, the unofficial center of the town's political activity. Though La Monde had always enjoyed the patronage of a few of the capital's well-to-do ladies, the owner-Margaret's aunt-had never been able to match the scope of the stock at establishments such as Miss Semon's. Miss Semon was prosperous enough to travel to Europe and bring back the latest continental fashions-this season Arabian mantles for women, and suits in the Spanish mode for young gentlemen. At four- fifteen, Eliza Marble was measuring Mrs. Honeyman's surly little boy for just such a suit What La Mode lacked in resources, it made up by hard work. Aunt Eliza regularly observed Miss Semon's

362Cy at the Edge of War windows, sketched her latest arrivals from memory, and then showed the four girls who worked evenings in the back how to run up cheaper copies. Customers who couldn't afford originals found Aunt Eliza's imitations satisfactory both in design and price. Normally, this procedure helped insure a tiny profit at the end of every month. But conditions in Richmond were no longer normal. The city was now part of the Confederacy-a situation Margaret loathed because it meant war. Arkansas had left the Union, followed by Tennessee. Mrs. Honeyman, overseeing Aunt Eliza's measuring of the disagreeable and fidgety Clovis, had reported mat everyone up in the elegant Church Hill district was certain North Carolina would secede within seven days. "comand they've just appointed Brigadier Johnston to take command of the state troops assembling at Harper's Ferry." Margaret overheard Mrs. Honeyman's remark as she finished writing the order for a uniform. The uniform would be worn by a young man who belonged to one of the volunteer units. Margaret had taken his measurements with considerable embarrassment; she'd turned red as a tomato when she'd knelt and run the tape up hisinseam. But he'd been polite. Hadn't joked or taken advantage of her embarrassment As she'd performed the unladylike task, Margaret consoled herself by recalling the extra profit Aunt Eliza realized from uniforms. The gentlemen's tailor shops couldn't keep up with the demand comanother sign of the disruption in the city Margaret Marble had called home for thirteen of her eighteen years. Trade in uniforms had become so brisk, Margaret had been forced to resign her part-time position at West and Johnston, the book and music store where she'd formerly clerked three days a week because The Titans363 Aunt Eliza couldn't afford to pay her fun wages. Although Margaret was now working exclusively at La Mode, she received no extra money. Most of the shop's increased income went to purchase additional fabric and decorative materials for the next batch of uniforms. Margaret didn't object She owed Eliza Marble more than she could ever repay. She did her work faithfully, even though she disliked the uniform business and all it represented. Of late, her dislike had changed to outright fear. The transformation had started on that showery afternoon when Gideon Kent had wajked into West and Johnston's to buy his book on cavalry tactics. He was tall; boisterous comandthe possessor of the most appealing blue eyes she'd ever seen. Something had happened between them. Something instantaneous and dizzying. Because of him, she feared and loathed the foolish enthusiasm sweeping the city. He had no notion of the real meaning of war. But she did. She saw a devastating reminder when she went home every evening to the dingy suburb of Rockett's. As she finished writing the instructions for the uniform, a picture of eastern Kentucky came into her thoughts. She saw the green, peaceful mountains. She'd been very small when she'd left Kentucky. But her mind still stored a few images of that sweet time before the Sergeant had gone off to Mexico, leaving a small daughter and an ailing wife who died of influenza the first winter he was away. When he came home-the memory of the first sight of him still had power to terrify her- he was incapable of running the farm. They'd sold it, and ever since, they'd survived on the charity of Eliza Marble, a spare, graying spinster with a pleasantly prunish face. "Brigadier Johnston? Is that a fact!" Aunt Eliza said. The words were muffled because her mouth was 364Cy at the Ed`e of War full of pirn. Her brattish customer eyed the pins With apprehension: "Mama, she's going to jab me with one of those." "Clovis, you hush," Mrs. Honeyman said. "Else I'll jab you myself!" The little boy raised a hand in front of his face. From her position behind a counter, Margaret saw him tide out his tongue. Chattering on, Mrs. Honeyman didn't notice: "I was just as surprised as you, Eliza. Evervone thought General Lee would get the command. He's such a gracious, charming man-was "And a true Christian," Aunt Eliza commented. "Johnston, you know, was only a general because the rank went with his job. They say he's a regular little gamecock about rank. He insisted on taking charge here because he was higher than Lee in the Federal service. H Beauregard comes north, Johnston will probably demand to be Bory's superior too-even though Bory's fought a battle and Johnston hasn't." Margaret finished her notations and said pleasantly: "I don't think you can call the bombardment of a surrounded fort a battle, Mrs. Honeyman." The well-dressed woman looked startled, then insulted. Aunt Eliza was on her knees again, busying with the tape and pins. Clovis tried to kick her while his mother's head was turned. She pinched his leg. He squealed. "Oh, dear, Clovis," she said. "The pin slipped." Clovis reddened. Aunt Eliza gave Margaret a look conveying her disapproval of the comment to Mrs. Honey- man. Mrs. Honeyman was more direct: "You certainly speak your mind, Margaret. Several of the ladies at St. Paul's have asked why you don't join your aunt in the evening and help us sew tents and pre The Titans365 pare lint and bandages. Fve told them you have strong feelings against our cause. Haven't I, Eliza?" "Frequently," Aunt Eliza said, almost sighing. St. Paul's, just up by Capitol Square, was an affluent church. Margaret and her aunt were perhaps its poorest members. Still, Eliza Marble had lived in Richmond all her life. When it came to religion, she refused to acknowledge any other resident-or any other Episcopalian comz her better. But Margaret had challenged a paying customer. The older woman tried to take a bit of the heat out of the situation: "You know the reason for Margaret's feelings. Her father-was "Yes, yes!" Mrs. Honeyman interrupted. "But it's no excuse. Not when that black-nigger Republican in Washington has thrown down the glove! The sovereign states of the South have every right to undo a compact into which they entered voluntarily. For Lincoln to say otherwise is illegal. It can't be tolerated!" "Mrs. Honeyman," Margaret said quietly, "it's all very fine to indulge in such talk. It's all very fine to drive out to Camp Lee with lunch baskets for the boys, and wave the new Stars and Bars and brag about whipping the Yankees in a month-was Aunt Eliza stood up suddenly. Pudgy-faced Clovis directed a venomous stare at the unpatriotic girl behind the counter. Gently but firmly, Eliza said, "Please, Margaret You have a right to your opinions-wrong as they are. But do try to remember you're speaking to a patron." Margaret's eyes blazed. Her head up, her chin thrust forward, she refused to be intimidated by her aunt's request comor Mrs. Honeyman's unfriendly expression: "Have you ever lost a loved one in a war, Mrs. Honeyman?" 366Cy at the Edge of War "No. I have not I can't say the question's of any relevance-was "But it is. Everyone in Richmond looks on the war as a-a carnival! Wait till you see one of your relatives bleeding-maimed. Fighting Yankees won't be a jolly sport after that!" "Margaret, I must insist you stop!" There was frost in Aunt Eliza's voice. "Take that dragoon's measurements to the workroom-this instant" "All right," Margaret said, infuriated but outwardly pliant She shouldn't embarrass her aunt any further- or cause the loss of an order. She picked up the paper on which she'd been writing. Why was she so irritable today? And every day? She knew. The larger the reality of war loomed, the more she detested all the posturing. Attempted to withdraw from it; seal off her emotions so as not to be touched by it in any way. But her emotions were touched. For one very special reason. She walked from the amber of the sun-filled shop into the darker back room. Willa Perkins, an undernourished, poorly dressed white girl bent over a work table, laboriously scissoring pieces of a trousers pattern from butternut cloth. Partially completed garments of every color from dull gray to gaudy azure lay on chairs and cartons. Finished, boxed uniforms jammed wooden shelves along one entire wall. "Here's another, Willa." She handed the notes to the pinch-faced girl "Oh, Lord," Wffla sighed. "I'm so far behind, I ain't ever gonna catch up." "Ill be back this evening to help you and the other girls." Willa rolled her tongue in her cheek. "Gonna see your young gentleman first?" The Titans367 "That's right." "I'm kinda surprised you took up with him. I mean, he is a soldier-was "He's a cavalryman." And I wish to God he weren't. "I seen him Monday when he come in. He's mighty handsome in that hoosar suit." "It's not hoosar, Willa, it's hussar" Margaret tried to be kindly about correcting the girl's pronunciation. Willa, too, lived out in Rockett's. Her father was a longshoreman at the nearby port. Despite Willa's lack of education, she had an intuitive intelligence. She knew there was a contradiction in Margaret's choice of a male friend. A contradiction that was making Margaret more miserable by the day. Margaret Marble was of slender build but with a round and ample bosom. She had a generous mouth, brown hair that matched her animated eyes and a stubby nose she'd always hated because it made her look boyish. And if she had any enemy on this golden afternoon-Wednesday, the fifteenth of May-it wasn't some faceless Yank. It was Gideon Kent himself. Gideon had charmed her on sight. He'd walked into West Johnston's and boldly engaged her in conversation after he bought his book. For practically the first time in her life, she'd found her hands tingling; her laugh sounding too shrill; her breast rising and falling too rapidly. She kept telling herself he was a soldier. To no avail. She'd seen him almost daily for the past month. And of late, she'd frequently asked herself whether it was possible to care for a man and despise him at the same time. In a way it was a dishonest question. She didn't despise Gideon at all. The mere prospect of meeting him again tonight filled her with excitement But she did despise the abandon with which he was plunging into the preparations for war. She considered that part of his 368Cy at the Edge of War character to be her enemy. An enemy against whom she had to wage her own war- She'd never known a boy who affected her as deeply as Gideon did. She'd only had a few beaux. Two could be classed as serious. Both had come from good families. She'd finally allowed each to call on her at the flat in Rockett's instead of meeting her in the center of town. Neither boy had ever come back: Truly, Mama, I had no idea the girl lived in such a squalid place. Certainly I won't see her another time. Gideon knew where she lived. But she'd never permitted him to escort her home. Nor had she ever spoken a word about her father. She thought of Gideon almost constantly when she was away from him; thought of him in ways Aunt Eliza would have considered distinctly improper. Margaret was a virgin. Not from any overwhelming devotion to prudery. Not even because the church she attended with Aunt Eliza on Sundays taught that such restraint was the moral way. She was a virgin by her own choice. All she had to offer the man she would finally marry was herself. She wanted that self to be as valuable as possible. To her, valuable meant unsullied-unused. She had no money. No social standing. Just herself- Willa's giggle pulled her back to reality: "Oh, you really must have a case! You ain't heard a word." Blushing,-Margaret answered, "What did you say?" In the front of the shop, Aunt Eliza and Mrs. Honeyman were concluding their business. "I asked if you'd heard any more about the capital comin' here from Montgomery." "The capital of the Confederacy? Aunt Eliza says the move will take place by the end of the month." "An' Mr. Davis'll be here, too?" "Mr. Davis and that whole Western crowd." To the The Titans369 people of Richmond, deep-South states such as Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana were practically the frontier; distinctly cruder than the Old Dominion. "Then watch this town go topsy-turvy! Goodness knows what will become of General Lee-was "He's gonna run the army, ain't he?" "Probably not, Willa. Mr. Davis has two titles. President and commander-in-chief. Mrs. Tatnall-the lady who orders yards of lace on all her dresses-was Willa nodded "comwell, she was down in Montgomery for the inauguration. There was a story going around that Davis just about wept when he was offered the presidency." "God's truth?" "Mrs. Tatnall swore to it" "Why'd he bawl?" "I don't know as he actually did it-he just felt like it. He wanted to be general of all the Confederate armies. More than anything, he fancies himself a soldier. Hell undoubtedly try to keep General Lee in the background, and make sure Lee knows who's giving the orders. Of course," Margaret added, "nothing's official until the people go to the polls a week from tomorrow and ratify the secession vote." "But they're goin' to-to " Willa exclaimed. "Everywhere except the western counties. Aunt Eliza says there are a lot of submissionists out mere. But the majority will approve. Then-all of General Lee's troops will be swallowed up in the Confederate Provisional Army." "Includin' your hoos-your hussar?" Margaret nodded. "I can see why you'd look sorta glum." "Was I looking glum?" "Sure were. I'd think you'd be proud-was "Proud that he wants a chance to be killed?" Tears sprang into her eyes. "For that, he's a fool! So is every 370Cy at the Edge of War one in Richmond who doesn't count the cost of-oh, never mind!" "Lord, it must be love to make you bust out cryin' so often," Willa said. Margaret whirled away and hurried toward the front, wiping her eyes. She was ashamed of herself. "coma deposit of three and a half dollars will be ample, Mrs. Honeyman." "Very well. Just a moment-was The woman fumbled in her reticule. Clovis stood by the door, watching pedestrians on the sun-dappled sidewalk. Mrs. Honeyman couldn't locate what she wanted: "I do declare patriotism has its inconveniences-was And many more to come, Margaret thought. Aunt Eliza looked apprehensive about her return. She kept her head down to conceal her reddened eyes and set about straightening bolts of yard goods. "comI can't get used to these Corporation of Richmond bills flooding the town-well, finally! Here's a two. A one. And a fifty-cent bill." The paper money, engraved on pink stock, crinkled loudly as Mrs. Honeyman paid the deposit. "Ill call for the suit Saturday morning. I want Clovis to wear it for Holy Communion on Sunday." Clovis looked anything but holy as h" stuck out his tongue again anc! uttered a retching noise. "Clovis Honeyman, do you want God to strike you dead?" "Rather He did that than make me go to rotten old church." "Whatever am I going to do with you? It's your father's fault! I rue the day I married a godless drinker of alcohol!" "Amen!" Aunt